Angels Against The Storm
by BPhantom
Summary: Post-DH. With how massacred Voldemort's soul was after creating so many horcruxes, it was guaranteed his fate would be unusual, but not quite this unusual. No longer power hungry, now he just wants revenge. Rated T for Tentative, and some mild language
1. Pre Chapter: Voldemort Is Dead

**Pre-Chapter: Voldemort is Dead**

Post-DH, ignoring the epilogue. You shouldn't have to ask why.

Author's Notes: Warnings of any nature may be added at any point in time, but I'll keep to canon (as far as pairings are concerned) as an initial condition, at the very least.

Please review; I'm hungry for feedback! ^_^ Will post the next chapter after 3 reviews, or 3 weeks after a good review.

* * *

I am gone.

Before continuing to read, you must realise this. I am not planning some great scheme to be the world's strongest sorcerer, or anything of that caliber. The one everyone knew is gone; there is no reversing that end.

However... I live.

To understand this paradox, you must first understand the circumstances of my demise. I'm sure you've all heard the story, as told by your little hero boy. I don't mean to imply anything; someone of my stature has most certainly learned humility; but I do mean to disillusion you from your supposed "end": there is no end, and there will never be. As long as human blood flows through human veins, everything will continue in the cycle. I have removed myself as I was, as a driving force of the cycle, and now I only seek to remove my opposite, the other driving force, from the cycle. For ones such as ourselves were never meant to exist in the cycle for longer than the briefest of moments.

I used to be the villain; I'll admit it. I was bent on killing the filthy muggle scum from the face of the earth who should have--

Why am I alive? It's an unfortunate comedy, you see. A person's soul can only be so fractured before strange things start happening to it. With as many horcruxes as I created, which I now see was quite foolish, but opened the door for this miracle, my soul could barely contain itself in my own body. It was to the extent that when I died, my soul was so used to finding a new place to grasp... that it did. Indeed, it used the remainder of my magical potential to create this body for me. This detestable, disgusting body... but I am grateful to be alive. Even if it means that I am now worse than filth. I... don't even have words for what I am right now. But you may call me Thomas.

I have not given up on wizardry, you see... I have merely lost all capacity to operate magic. It seems the only magic that works is the Dark Mark, and too few of my servants are alive now; I am currently taking residence with two that went unrecognised by the Ministry, for whatever reason. They are alive, and they house me. This is all that's important at the moment, until I can claim a residence of my own.

I have kept up with the news. I have seen the rise of the "hero of our time". It's disgusting. Damn the so-called "prophecy"; prophets are no more than self-righteous bastards unable to keep their damn opinions and hopes to themselves. They are weeds of this world and deserve to be--

My servants treat me well, though they were never exactly the most loyal of my followers. In the few weeks since I have taken residence here, I have grown exceedingly tired of their pitying glances. They should be watching me with reverence! Instead, they see a crippled man, dizzy, in pain, and confused. Wandless, even. I have violently rejected their inferior wands when offered. Again, the pitying looks. They think I am broken from having my own wands destroyed. It is not so. I feel I should need no wands to command them. Even if I possessed my wand, what good would it do me now?

They have taken the treasures that in my arrogance I saw no need for, and returned them to me. Everything is important now; something is always better than nothing. Even seemingly inconsequential things have a value, now. I've had weeks to brood over my downfalls. Perhaps I was too daring, not daring enough? I had power and experience over the Potter boy; what had he but luck? After Albus was dead, I should have possessed ultimate power; no man should have been able to fell me! And yet, I am in this pathetic body, that seemingly rejects my presence, waiting for some measure of strength to return. Unable to tolerate the pitying gazes of my servants, I have locked myself away. Every time I stand before them, I see pity, doubt, and deceit in their eyes. They resent my presence, but I haven't a choice as to my residence, at the moment. Eventually, I will escape this damned place. As soon as my body recovers, and I no longer faint at random intervals, I will leave.

The world hates me. They rejoiced at my downfall, and I do not blame them. I killed their loved ones, after all. The unfeeling, brutal, murderous Dark Lord fell. That is reason to rejoice. However, it makes my present situation quite precarious. I must leave, ere my servants' scheming reaches fruition, for they have ambition too. Turning in the reincarnation of the Dark Lord to the Ministry would give them prime seats in whichever occupation they should desire. They would be heroes too, just as much as the Potter boy. And who (other than myself, of course, for I understand people are quite different from myself) wouldn't want that?

I am searching for a good companion. In my later days, Nagini was the only being I could trust fully. She is dead now, of course, but to have another companion like her would be tremendous. I have been looking, of course, and I've heard rumors of a "demon snake" in South America. I should be able to use some influence and stolen money to attain her. It's said she eats children, and her gaze is paralyzing. However, investigations say she is not a basilisk. I would not fancy another such pet; as tremendous as they are, I cannot forgive my basilisk for dying and destroying a truly great horcrux. Some, however, theorize this snake has magical potential. I should love the chance to meet her, as I'm sure my servants would relish my departure. A shame that I cannot curse them into being better servants.

* * *

"Orders? From who?

...

What do you mean, you can't--!

...

Do you even realize--!

...

What?! ...WHAT?!

...

No!

...

No! Of course I--!"

As quickly as he had spoken, the head disappeared from the campfire. "Deve ser nada brinca comigo!"

His men stared at him. "O Que?"

"Ey! Comece mover; temos que andar milhas receber à cobra."

The men started panicking. "Que um?! A cobra é perigosa!"

He nodded, muttering to himself, "Eu não posso acreditar que eu farei isto para algum filho arrogante de uma cadela que pensa que ele pode enfeitiçar me em qualquer trabalho ele quer."

He couldn't believe some English bastard could possibly want this snake; why? The nature of the business didn't make it seem like he wanted to research it; but Paulo had experience in dealing with the black market, and knew better than to ask questions. He told his men to get their wands ready to bind the snake and cover its eyes, when they found it. There were too many of them for her to take them all down. They'd catch her, all right, but he'd better fetch a pretty penny for this bitch when they finished their delivery.

* * *

"She's beautiful..." I could hear her curses from within the cage. She was positively evil.

At my gesture, my servants handed over the money and bade the men leave. They did so quickly. My servants left as well, at my gesture. _"I will feed you blood, my darling..." _I cooed to the beautiful serpent.

"_Your blood would be mosssst appresssciated, prey..." _I smiled. Such a vile soul. _"Not mine, pet. There will be much blood in your future, but first you musst recognisse your masster..."_

"_No man, sssserpent or beassst iss my massster. All are prey before me..." _Her threats did nothing but make me more excited. Oh, she would never be tamed; that much was obvious. She was more deadly and fierce than Nagini, just like a certain other servant that had died in her service to me. Yes, that would be quite the appropriate name. I opened the box. _"Come forth, my Bellatrix." _She slid from the box, her eyes locking on me. My arms and legs locked in place. _"Acknowledge your masster, heir to Ssalazsar Sslytherin, tamer of the bassilissk, Lord of Darkness!" _She locked eyes with me, and I could feel her presence in my mind. She was challenging my claims. After a moment, I felt her presence leave my mind.

"_Masssster..." _she murmured, and I was released from her gaze. She bowed her head.

"_Together we will do great thingss, Bellatrix."_

"_Terrible."_

"_Yess; and great."_

She wrapped herself around me and bit my neck. Searing pain radiated from the wound. I blacked out, but did not fall, supported by my only truly loyal servant. Already I was starting to recover; now I needn't worry about betrayal; my Bellatrix would defend me; her bite sealed her loyalty. I would start a new reign with my partner who saw my losses, but held nothing but respect for me. Together we would do great things indeed.


	2. Chapter 1: Mundane

**Mundane**

Author's Notes: Okay, okay. So apparently you need more than a short pre-chapter to get reviews. That's fine. So here's chapter one, but this time I'm serious. I need reviews to progress to Chapter two. I'm going to finish the story for the story's sake, but if you guys want to read it, I'm going to have to attract some reviews.

3 reviews, or 3 weeks after a good review. For realz.

* * *

He woke up in a very comfortable bed, his snake curled at his feet. The door was closed, and he could hear the fearful breathing of his servants outside. They would not come inside. The former Dark Lord smirked; Bellatrix was a marvel indeed. As he looked around, he noticed this room as the master bedroom. Resting here, he felt he didn't want to move out after all. Such an act would be humiliating. No, instead he'd drive his servants out of this house, but not yet. He still needed them for the moment. When he was recovered, they could leave. For now, he'd need their money and services.

"You may enter." At his voice, Bellatrix stirred. _"Massster, may I eat them?" _She inquired. _"No."_ It was an obvious answer, especially since she'd curbed her bloodlust before: They needed them. However, this did tell him that his snake was hungry. He'd have to find her suitable cuisine; she'd want human blood, but it was too soon for Thomas to take the risk that murder involved.

"M-...master?" The man said, kneeling before his Lord. Thomas smirked, cooing his appreciation to Bellatrix for teaching his servants the appropriate fear. She hissed contentedly. This, finally, was the sort of respect he deserved. "What is alive in these parts? Bellatrix is hungry," he explained, stroking her head. Thomas noted that both of his servants jumped at the name; they looked confused at first, but realised soon after he meant the snake. "Oh... er..." They didn't appear to relax in the slightest at this observation. Thomas smiled slowly. The man before him started to shake.

It was the woman who responded, in the end. Thomas nodded, and sent his snake off to hunt as he rose. His servants jumped out of his way, asking if there were anything he desired. The woman rushed off to prepare food for him; the man informed him of the time, and what had transpired while he was unconscious. _Finally,_ he thought, _they realise their places._ This would indeed be the beginning of a bright future.

Over the next several months, Thomas returned much to his status when he'd recuperated after his second body. The owners of the house waited on his every whim, and he and Bellatrix planned the demise of the Potter boy. While it was true, his ambitions to control the world had quelled, he desired more than ever the demise of that wretched boy. He acknowledged that the boy had too many protections now for Thomas to be able to kill him outright, but Thomas had seen how that had turned out even when the boy was defenseless. For one reason or another, he couldn't kill the boy. It was almost enough to make a man believe that there was someone else pulling the strings of all of their lives, making sure the Potter boy succeeded in every important endeavor, while still having enough weaknesses to make everyone doubt that he could survive each. Of course, this was ridiculous. The boy's life was far too unbelievable to possibly have been controlled by a sentient being.

Half a year passed since he'd attained this new body. His nausea and headache hadn't gone away, nor even had they lessened in intensity over the time. One of his servants suggested he talk to someone about it, but the look he gave her made her think about what she said, and apologise. Of course he couldn't get help; he was Lord Voldemort, as far as the wizarding world would be concerned, and he wasn't ready to die again. If legions of death eaters couldn't protect him before, two servants and Bellatrix wouldn't be able to help him now.

No, he'd put up with this. And soon, everything would fall into place. The Potter boy and friends had married soon after his demise, and seemed to be faring as anyone would have predicted. There was a major commemorative event coming up, however, and Thomas was sure to attend. He needed to meet the Potter boy face to face for him to begin his plan. He wouldn't kill the boy, oh no, but he would bring him low. He would humiliate and debase the boy until he was satisfied, and only then would he be merciful enough to murder him. His plan would take _years_, but if Thomas had anything in this world, it was time. He was willing to wait to achieve his ends, though unhappy that he had been lowered so much as to have to wait to get his revenge.

* * *

Nights were always difficult. The former Dark Lord's body made it hard to get to sleep, and once he fell asleep, he was haunted. Not by something as solid as nightmares; he didn't have enough of a conscience to have nightmares. No, what haunted him was nothing less than health problems. His temperature spiked and plummeted, his body convulsed, his throat gasped for air and for water, and his eyes rolled wildly. Still, even one such as himself needed sleep. Especially one such as himself, for he was still exhausted from the creation of this new body. The body which it appeared was rejecting his soul. Still, things weren't getting worse, and he supposed that was something to be grateful for. He was just glad that none but Bellatrix could see the agony that overtook him in the middle of the night; he'd finally gotten his servants to fear him; he didn't need them to pity him again.

The fits never happened when he fainted, and perhaps his body's exhaustion from fighting against him was so great as to cause the blackouts. Whatever the reason, the situation was on the whole not only troublesome, but also unbecoming and downright humiliating. Worse, because he didn't even know what was happening, so he couldn't possibly think of a solution to the issue at hand. So of course, this meant that he merely had to ignore it while planning the Potter boy's demise.

The best times for him were the times when his servants were working, and couldn't disturb him. These were when he would talk incessantly with Bellatrix, planning the boy's exact demise. Their time was approaching, but he couldn't bring his servants with him; he'd look too suspicious if he were accompanied by any but his snake. He'd already planned how to react if anyone should be suspicious of Bellatrix. He'd had half a year to think about his mistakes in the past, after all. He needed to be far more covert this time, and then he would certainly succeed. The boy was no Albus; he was always getting hopelessly lost in riddles; he would have lost the Triwizard Tournament many times over if he hadn't been all but forced through to the end. No, Thomas knew the boy's logic facilities were flawed, to say the least. He should have no problems deceiving the boy.

It wasn't long before he had his servants transfer their property to his name, and find somewhere else to live. Of course, he let them take many of their possessions with them: He had no need for many of them, and indeed, after they left, he formally dismissed them of their service. He no longer wanted associations with any of his former servants. This time, he was going to ensure that no idiot ruined his plans.

Living on his own had unexpected complications. For instance, he now had to buy food. It was a troublesome thing indeed; he hated sharing the street with pathetic muggles, and everyone always stared at Bellatrix. Why couldn't his servants have lived in an all-wizard town? This was almost too much. Thankfully, he no longer had a wand, so he wouldn't reveal himself, but how he so wanted to hex them into oblivion! Bellatrix would hiss reassurances in his ear to calm his temper, for over the past few months she'd learned just how important staying hidden was.

Nevertheless, his limited interaction with his own kind, and, unfortunately, muggles, proved to serve some purpose other than to infuriate him. He came to understand a few more things about his nemesis, such as more of the environment under which he was raised. Not that Thomas didn't remember from his own childhood, but he much preferred not to think about that whenever possible. It made him want to kill again, and he did not possess the means.

His plan had to be modified, of course, after he met the more common folk. He needed the boy to break, to experience pain he'd never forget... That was it. Bellatrix hissed in approval. She was now in his mind almost perpetually, since he couldn't speak in parseltongue around the general populace. _"The child must be humiliated."_

"_And I'm sure the benefitssss won't be few..."_

"_And the repurcussionss..."_

"_You could sssstop the world, masster... geniussss..."_

Thomas grinned to himself. He really had to commend himself on that one. It shouldn't be too hard, either. He stood from his chair, leaving Bellatrix draped across the back of the huge armchair, watching him as he approached the mirror. For the first time since he'd moved in with his servants, he examined his features closely. This body had high cheekbones, a brow that was prominent without being sulky, a straight nose and chin, dark brown hair that now fell down shaggily, but he didn't doubt he could make himself look refined. His grey eyes looked brooding and ambitious, with a hint at something inhuman. His form was slim, but not bony or gangly. This wasn't bad at all... his ears were small, his jaw straight, but not pronounced. His lips formed a natural frown, with a hint of a sneer, but when he smiled, there was a light in his eyes that he was sure could charm any simpleton into trusting him.

Thomas laughed. It was perfect! His plan was perfect!

Bellatrix slid over him when he collapsed, resting across his body until he awoke. Damn these fainting spells; he could only hope it didn't happen at the celebration. There would be nothing more humiliating than fainting in Bellatrix's coils. Not only would it attract unwanted attention, but it would put _such_ a damper in his plans.

It had been nearly a year since they won the battle, and already much progress had been made to restore Hogwarts to its former glory. Harry had to admit, he was quite pleased with the progress. He squeezed Ginny's hand, watching his classmates try to re-shelve the last of the library books. They had married just two months ago, but agreed to forego their honeymoon in order to see the castle reconstructed. Ron and Hermione were engaged; they'd vowed not to marry until the reconstruction was over. Yes, all of them were young, but after what they'd been through, who could blame them for their actions? It seemed Neville and Luna were getting serious, but no commitments had been made yet. It was just a matter of time, though, and everyone knew it. Draco had actually been working hard, for once in his life. He finally seemed to have matured, after the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry had never seen him so driven; he still respected his parents, but he no longer followed them explicitly. He and Ron were even starting to develop a sort of companionship, but Hermione still hated him. Harry and he shared a sort of mutual respect; their personalities were such that they could never be best friends, but they accepted each other on good terms, at least.

Harry was never more proud of the DA. They'd taken up leadership positions even over the adults in rebuilding Hogwarts. Wards that had been broken were re-established, and the Room of Requirement was now officially DA territory. Certain members had established another room to serve purposes similar to the initial Room elsewhere. Harry hadn't been part of that group; he didn't want to know where it was.

The new Headmistress of Hogwarts would be Professor McGonagall. There was now a statue to Snape outside the Headmistress's office. Everything was returning to normal; in fact, better than it had been before. The world was entering a new age now: wizards were re-examining their relationships with the giants, centaurs, goblins, house elves, and all sorts of magical creatures, in order to hopefully help the enmity between races. Everyone seemed to be honestly trying to rebuild the wizarding world, with England leading the way. It made Harry and all of his friends proud.

There were even rumours of radical change in the structure of Durmstrang after the fall of Voldemort. None of these could be confirmed, of course, but the eagerness from all countries to stave off evil from the world was positively inspiring. And soon they'd be ready for the Celebration. Even now, when parts of Hogwarts were still being put into place, people were preparing for the enormous party that would be open to the public. It was going to be amazing. Despite losses on all sides, the turnout for the Hogwarts Reconstruction Celebration was expected to be tremendous; they were preparing the grounds and the Main Hall, for there would certainly not be room within the castle for the masses expected to come. They'd had to postpone moving the new house tables in to accommodate for the mass of people expected to come. It was going to be great.

"No no no! You're doing it wrong! If you put the banners up there, how are the Yorndies supposed to keep the colors bright?"

Harry chuckled. "Afternoon, Luna."

"Afternoon, Harry. Could you _please_ tell Ben and David they need to put the banners lower, so as to create a suitable habitat for Yorndies?"

"We _told_ you, Luna, we can't do that! People will run into them!" David complained.

"Well, people will just have to duck, then, won't they?" Luna said matter-of-factly.

"Er, Luna..." Harry ventured.

"Yes, Harry?" She asked, turning a bright smile to him.

"...What exactly are Yorndies?"

"Oh! You've never heard of them?" Harry shook his head. "They're color-fairies! They're exceptionally fond of glitter and parties, and some theorize they also help keep food sweet. If you drape soft cloths about four feet from the ground across your room, the colors on your clothes will surely never fade! ...Would you like me to help you organise your room to help invite Yorndies, Gregelfunks, and Tersips?"

Harry pinched Ginny to prevent her from giggling. "Er, no thanks, Luna... You guys, that really is too high to look at comfortably. Lower it a little bit more."

The boys exchanged glances and did as Harry said. Luna smiled at him gratefully before fleeting off to where three girls were fighting over what color the outdoor stage should be.

"Harry, why is she on the party decorative committee?" Ginny asked.

Harry smiled wryly and replied, "Well, once the new Room of Requirement was created, you should have seen the things she wanted to do to the Potions classroom to commemorate Snape." Ginny giggled. Harry chuckled and squeezed her close. "Truthfully, though, she does have a good nose for decoration, as long as you take off a few of the more... exotic touches." He knew his friends quite well by this point, and though Luna might occasionally want to design beds for Yorndies, she really had an eye for the aesthetic. He would no more take her off of decorative duty than put Ron in her place. Hermione or he just had to follow behind Luna from time to time, and make sure her suggestions weren't too outlandish.

As the Celebration approached, Thomas did everything he could to improve his health and make sure he wouldn't faint in the middle of the party, but it seemed no sort of nutrition or sleep had any effect. He still passed out every few days, though it was highly unpredictable, sometimes less than a day passing between incidents. He still had persistent nausea and headaches, though occasionally, after drinking obscene amounts of water, they would subside. It seemed that exercise or over-excitement promoted fainting, though he couldn't be entirely sure, as he didn't exactly exercise regularly. Thomas was too proud to check himself into St. Mungo's, however, so he put up with it as best he could.

Over the past couple weeks, he'd taken extra care of himself, showering regularly, grooming himself as he hadn't before. He didn't want to stick out, and he was sure looking unkempt would stick out, so he made sure he was clean and looked neat. Just like when he was in school, he was going to use his good looks and his charm to avoid any suspicion, though now he had a great deal more shadows hovering around him. Murder was much easier now than it had been back then, though he was incapable. No, he was going to look like a well-groomed man who just so happened to keep a snake. Plenty of witches walked around with cats; he could walk around with his snake.

Attaining new robes hadn't been a problem, either. For a little bit of money, he was able to get appropriate robes, dark green with scarlet accents around the collar and sleeves. It even had a hood.

When the day of the Celebration arrived, Thomas made sure he looked average before putting his robe over black slacks and shoes. The robe was such that wearing a shirt underneath would only be uncomfortable. Once he was ready to leave, he beckoned to Bellatrix, who slithered up to his shoulders. The local portkeys were located below a pawn shop, and were watches set to the time that each would activate. A total of seven people were in the basement when he went down there, and though he loathed being in such close proximity, there was nothing he could do about it if he wanted his revenge. The witches and wizards' discomfort at his snake provided some consolation, however. They tried to stay as far away as they could while still touching the watch. Once they'd arrived, the others were just as happy as Thomas to separate.

A young man approached him. His face looked familiar, but Thomas couldn't remember the boy's name. He rattled off a welcome, and various events that would take place during the night to Thomas and the group with the 6 o'clock portkey. Once he was finished, Thomas asked his name. "Oh, my name's Neville Longbottom. Why?"

Apprehension dawned in the former Dark Lord's eyes. That was right. "I just thought your face looked familiar."

He fidgeted uncomfortably as the boy examined his face. "I don't recognise you..." he said after careful thought. Thomas nodded. "You wouldn't. I knew your parents. Unfortunate, what had to become of them. It was so long since I last saw them, I felt like a different person. But this place certainly brings back memories." Thomas always could hold a conversation, and he deemed that now was a necessary moment. He was testing to see if the boy would recognise him at all.

Neville frowned and lowered his eyes for a moment, before coming back up with a cocky grin. "Yeah, but I'm just glad that evil witch is dead now. I figure it's time to move on."

Something flashed across Thomas's eyes for a moment, but he quickly brought himself under control. "Indeed."

He started to walk away, but the boy followed. "That's an interesting snake you've got there. Are you interested in unusual creatures?"

Thomas grunted. "I have experience with them."

"I think it's brave, carrying around that snake." Thomas's and Bellatrix's heads whipped to face him, stopping. Neville paused awkwardly for a moment. "I mean, right now... cause snakes were You-Know-Who's favorite animal..."

Thomas's gaze turned cold. "Why are you talking to me? Don't you have other guests to greet?"

Neville's face flushed. "I just figured since... you knew my parents and all..."

Thomas forced a smile. "It's fine; I'm sure we'll see each other around. Go do your job."

Neville smiled idiotically and nodded, walking off. Thomas felt nauseous and dizzy. He bent down for a moment, leaning over the grass and hoping his nausea subsided. Bella watched him. It took only a moment for him to recover enough to stand up again and continue walking towards the castle. They'd been dropped off by the lake, and he saw plenty of groups of people, but none in the immediate vicinity. _"Look for the Potter boy,"_ he hissed, _"and let me know if you see him."_ Bellatrix hissed in the affirmative, watching from his shoulder as his own eyes darted across the grounds. The number of people here was sickening. Thomas suppressed his nausea as he walked into the ever-growing crowd of people as they were transported here by portkey. Some opted for floo, coming out of the Great Hall or the dormitories where they had taken residence as students. Thomas didn't want ash to ruin his appearance. He wanted to avoid anything that could possibly decrease his plan's chance for success.

If he thought the crowd was bad outside, he nearly died upon entering the castle. There was a live band both outside and inside, and the songs were horribly discordant. He took a piece of parchment from one of the twins at the door, wincing and clutching his head, that was now splitting in agony. He forced himself to press on into the hallway. When one of the bands finally drowned out the other, he leaned against a wall, recovering.

"Say, are you all right?" A wizard asked, approaching him. Thomas nodded. "You sure? You don't look too well..." Thomas rubbed his head and stood straight again with a deep breath. He looked at the man. Oh gods. A Weasley. Thomas muttered something about sensitive ears, and the boy nodded in understanding. "If you go down that way," He said, pointing down the hallway, "Madam Pomfrey has set up a booth of earplugs if it's troublesome. The music is very loud."

Thomas shook his head. "No, I have someone I need to talk to." He smiled again. Smiling was so much effort; no wonder he always hated smiling. "And I want to hear what he has to say."

He nodded. "Well, all right, but be careful about your snake." Thomas cast him a sharp gaze. "No, I'm just saying animals sometimes have more sensitive ears!" Thomas nodded. He wasn't sure how well he could take further insults to Bellatrix. "She is a beautiful animal," He admitted, reaching a hand out to stroke her. Bellatrix snapped back, hissing and baring her fangs.

"Peace, Bella." Thomas said, turning his gaze back to the Weasley. "Please don't touch her."

The man nodded. "Where did you get her?"

"She came here from Brazil."

The man's eyes widened. "An exotic?" He looked closely. "She's not an ordinary snake, is she?"

Thomas smirked. "Very observant. I would never have settled upon an ordinary snake." He stroked her head lovingly. "Bella is very special."

The man looked behind him. "Think I heard someone calling me. Later, uh, Mister...?"

"Just call me Thomas."

"Right. Name's Charlie. Later, Tom!"

Bellatrix squeezed tight around Thomas's body. He closed his eyes, lest his murderous intent be revealed. He needed to stop hyperventilating. The Weasley hadn't meant.... He would pay! His eyes snapped open, panicked at the contradictory thoughts running through his mind. Kill the Weasley! Kill his whole family! No, no, no! Thomas needed to control himself, or he'd be killed again, and permanently this time! What an insult! Charlie needed to die, regardless of if he would die with him! He would...

When Thomas opened his eyes, he was resting on a bed, Bellatrix resting across his chest and abdomen, hissing threats at any who approached him. He blinked a few times, picking up the snake and letting her slither along his shoulders. "Easy, Bella-" He was interrupted by gasps. Thomas looked around the room. There were quite a few people in here.

"...What's going on?" He demanded. A woman with dark curled hair spoke up. "You fainted, sir, I--"

"I did nothing of the sort!" He said sharply, before relaxing. "...Where is this place? ...More importantly, what time is it?"

"You're in a classroom, sir; we conjured a bed for you..." A woman to his left explained.

"I asked you _what time it is!_" he demanded. Even to himself, his voice sounded dangerous. A man spoke from the doorway. "Calm down. It's just past eight; far too early to be causing a fuss." Thomas turned to see the unmistakable blond hair of a Malfoy. It was the useless child! Thomas's fingers twitched, but no more. Nevertheless, the boy caught the small gesture. "If you think you can walk, you can still make it in time to see Harry's speech, Tom."

The brooding man instantly fascinated him. He was trying to look sociable, but Draco knew how to see past all sorts of emotional masks. He didn't like being here, but there was something he had to do. As a matter of fact, he was looking for someone. And judging by the behavior of his snake, he could speak parseltongue, to boot.

Draco followed the man from a safe distance. When he entered the castle, Draco picked up the pace. Luckily, the man had slowed... he looked in pain. Was he going to die? Is that why he was here? Did he have some last-minute message to...? When the Weasley approached him, Draco stayed back in the crowds, watching the exchange. The man's smile... there was something familiar about the glint in his eyes when he smiled.

"Later, Tom!"

The look in the man's eyes at the name... Draco's eyes widened. No, of course not. He was being delusional. But it didn't stop him from slowly wading through the crowd towards the man. He saw him passed out on the ground, and when Draco approached, the snake nearly bit him. He pulled out his wand. The snake looked absolutely livid. Draco muttered a few words, and the snake calmed. "I'm not here to hurt your master. I just want to get him somewhere safe, where a nurse can take care of him until he wakes."

The snake looked him in the eyes, and he felt his spell break. It felt like... no, snakes couldn't work magic; it had to be a special... Just as quickly as it came, the sensation was gone, and the snake slid off its master. Draco leaned to pick him up, and the snake curled around his body. He didn't think he'd ever been more uncomfortable in his life. Draco stiffly walked to where Madam Pomfrey was handing out earplugs. When he walked in the room, she immediately reacted with alarm, rushing for him. The snake hissed, baring its fangs and leaning over its master. "Don't approach, please... this snake is dangerous and won't let you touch this man. But could you conjure a bed? It's heavy."

The woman nodded. "Of course." With a quick spell, a bed came into the room. Draco set the man on the bed, at which time the snake slithered off him to rest on top of its master. It hissed at him, and he was sure it was thanking him, though he didn't speak parseltongue. Draco quickly backed behind the witches surrounding the "handsome man" who had passed out. None dared approach him, for each time someone got close, the snake made as if to attack. So it was that they all stood there until the man awoke.

His reactions and volatile temper were certainly interesting, almost amusing, if Draco didn't think the man was genuinely terrifying.

"I asked you _what time it is!_" The inflection of his voice, which nearly cracked, made Draco's heart stop. Merlin... he swallowed, putting on a neutral face and stepping forward, to where the man could see him. When the man noticed him, his hand twitched, as if greatly suppressing the instinct to grab his wand. Draco took note of this and swallowed. He was going to die after this, he was certain... he could only hope that the reason the man hadn't revealed himself yet was because he acknowledged his defeat and didn't want to be caught for fear of what would happen. Draco could only hope, because if he was wrong, he was dead.

"If you think you can walk, you can still make it in time to see Harry's speech, Tom." It was taking every nerve in his body to be able to talk sarcastically to this man.

The look of panic over his face nearly sent Draco into a coma himself. "So? Are you really too weak to walk?" Draco smirked arrogantly, feeling anything but confident right now. The man got up. He was trying to hide his fear and rage. Draco led him out. Once they were out of earshot, Draco turned. _Don't kill me, don't kill me __**please**__, in the name of all things pure, don't kill me. _"Er, no offense back there. I'm not going to tell anyone." Draco swallowed. "I got you out of that, now you do me a favor and if you're going to do anything against the Ministry again, count me out."

Draco wasn't looking at the man, but he could feel the gaze on him. He didn't want to die. He closed his eyes. After a few moments of agonising silence, he heard a response. "I wasn't planning on it. Are you one of their dogs now?"

"Hell no! I..." Draco went quiet. He... wasn't killing him? Oh, thank Merlin! Draco didn't know what he'd done to receive this mercy, but....

"Get out of my sight. And if you ever insult me again, Bellatrix will actually bite you next time." Draco recoiled and scampered away as fast as his legs could run. The snake's name was Bellatrix? Had the man gone even more mad? It was none of Draco's business; he was going to forget about this entire encounter. He'd Obliviate himself, if that's what it took. He just wanted to get as far away from that man as he could, as fast as he could. Merlin help Harry. It appeared the man was more together and less impatient than before. Harry had barely escaped alive, before. Well, in fact he hadn't, but those circumstances were highly unusual. In any case, Draco didn't believe any man alive could escape Voldemort's vengeance now, and he could only be here to target Harry. Draco wished his friend luck, because no one was going to help him; no one but him even knew the Dark Lord was still alive, and soon, not even he would remember.


End file.
